Elsa
by Our Darkest Times
Summary: Since the age of three, Anna had to find her own fun as the sole daughter of two wealthy workaholics who were not ready to have a child, much less take care of one. As dolls and teddys she outgrew, her constant source of amusement became only her imagination, and, from which, an invisible friend was born. The friend was named, most suitably, Elsa. Rated T for violence.


Hi! Welcome to this little story of mine. I hope you find it enjoyable.

Credits:

Inspiration from Obsidian3's _Mind Games_ (only the description), _The Evil Within_ by Besthesda Games, and _Layers of Fear_ from Bloober Team.

Various characters taken from _Frozen_ belong to Disney.

* * *

Sometimes, the eyelid-dropping afternoons were only interrupted by one type of noise.

"Elsa! Where are you?"

Spring received a pleasant welcome in the city of Arendelle, where winters were bitter harsh and summers only marginally warmer. There were no clouds of gloom that shadow over other places, nor storms which drench those within their embrace. Spring in Arendelle is a marvelous phenomenon. The sky, the mountains, the lake – all blends wonderfully together. On a particularly good day such as this, the ocean of dandelions mirrored the sun, while the birds sang their enchanting calls.

"Elsa?"

Well, if only the birds sang as sweetly as her.

Anna Snow is the sole daughter of entrepreneurs Agnar and Iguna Snow, with all the toys that a child could ever dream of having, yet no one to play them with. She has (according to Elsa anyway) nine dolls, which included three teddy bears; five sets of construction toys, all mismatched and piled together; three giant bouncy balls: a basketball, a soccer ball and a baseball, though she was sure Elsa had hidden the baseball, since she cannot find it; and lastly, an entire room full of odd-looking boxes that she had never touched, because Mother said they were for later, and she wouldn't find them fun anyway. Elsa had agreed with Mother, so she did not touch them.

"There you are!"

The red pigtails bounced through the oversized living room and hugged a column of air. Elsa, as usual, did not resist.

"Elsa" is her friend, and has been since she was very young. Mother and Father do not approve of Elsa, that much she can tell, though their reasoning a seal in a soap bath. She never quite understood why; Elsa does not take up a room, unlike many guests do; nor does she need an extravagant dinner, or food at all, in that matter; Elsa does not talk loudly, or snore at night, or make a mess, or need constant care and attention. All Elsa ever does is stand there with a big smile, or sometimes play teatime with her, and laugh when she says a joke, and complain soundlessly about Anna's troubles. And the strangers who come to the house love Elsa too. They would smile when she introduces her invisible friend to them, say hello and many good words. They would continue smiling and even defend her when her parents are annoyed with Elsa (who never says a word), and inform her parents that Elsa is always welcome.

"Come on, Elsa. Let's be ar-chi-ol-luh-gists." (It was a difficult word to pronounce, especially since Elsa won't help her with it.)

She grabbed a handful of air and pulled it along the room, past a burning hearth and through the maze of furniture.

"See here? This is Joan Arc! She was a princess. I think."

The painting was old, but kept in good shape by an almost invisible layer of film, though that did not stop a thin carpet of dust from settling on top of its beautifully crafted wooden frame. In oil, Joan Arc (or was it Joan d'Arc?) was a very pretty woman, most definitely a princess. Her armor shone silver, nearly blending into the clouded sky.

"Isn't she beautiful? I want to be like her when I grow up!"

Elsa agreed. And all was good.

Somewhere else in the house, there was a heavy thud, and someone cursed.

Anna instantly jumped up. "Who do you think that was?" No answer. "Yeah, you're right. Dad is just being clumsy again." No answer. She giggled, remembering how Mother had always told her to not be like her father, that how "inelegant" he was, while Father just smiled while doing whatever he was doing, rolling his eyes at the pair of them.

Once again maneuvering through the jungle of couches and pillows, the voices drifted musically from the second floor.

"Ignar, just do it when we get back. We're about to be late to the appointment!"

Some mumbling answered Mother. Then another thud, followed sharply by a yell.

"What do you think they're doing?" she whispered to Elsa, crawling quietly up the stairs. Elsa shrugged, uninformed as her, and stood very still, watching her expectantly with big, blue eyes.

"Give me a hand with this, will you, darling? Here, just hold–! Oops. Let's try that again. Here we go!"

"I really think we can finish this later. We'll have all the time we need then."

"But someone will have to be with Anna. And I don't think I can do this alone."

"Oh, fine, you big oaf."

The upstairs area was dark, relying on windows of adjacent rooms to light its dark passage. But now all the doors were closed, creating a dark gloom in the hall.

The noises seemed to come from the game room to the left, where the door was closed. Under the door, the sliver of space showed shadows moving about. She crept towards it, stealthily as she could, motioning for Elsa to do the same. Elsa only followed from afar, standing three steps up the stairs, and still curiously looking at her with frozen stars.

"Huh. There. I told you we have enough time."

"No we don't. We'll already be late, even if there is no morning traffic. Go grab your coat. I'll find Anna."

Anna realized what would happen a moment before it did.

The door opened faster than she could move. The shadow in the doorway was a lovely woman, beautiful brown eyes matching short and wavy river of auburn. The dress, beautiful in its simplicity, fitted a perfect figure. A small sapphire stone hung from her neck, delicately complimenting her graceful features. There would have been a smile on her face, and eyes warmer. They were not warm now, colored instead by a hint of alarm.

The flash of surprise was gone quickly.

"Anna? What were you doing?"

Anna smiled cheekily, shifting her feet. Darting back a glance, she looked for Elsa on the steps. Elsa was gone.

"Darling, excuse me for a moment," came from behind her mother, and a man in a handsome suit squeezed past the door. A head of personable golden hair made him appear younger than he numbered, and his eyebrows and mustache gave him a thick visage, but not unkind. His large nose was often the subject of familial humor, one that he himself enjoyed also. "Ah, there you are, Anna. Put on your shoes, baby. We're going out."

With that he disappeared down the stairs.

"Huh? Where?" But he was already gone.

"Just to the doctor's, honey." Mother closed the door behind her, essentially cutting Anna off from glimpsing at whatever the mystery was.

"But I just saw Dr. Chapman last week!"

Mother shook her head, and in the dim lighting, the waving flocks made her look sad. "This is a different doctor. A psychiatrist."

"What's a psychiatrist?"

"Someone who's going to talk to you. Now come on, let's get ready."

.

.

.

They were outside the door when she saw Elsa again. Elsa stared at her with those eyes of bright winter.

Why was everyone so sad?

* * *

The hospital was, strangely, located far out of the way from the downtown Anna was more familiar with. It was situated in the middle of its own little forest, where the sun didn't shine and the highway mute; its roads were old, and in dire need of pavement. Jungle vines of darkest jade joyfully jumped the walls of the grim fort. A large stone by the gated entrance read HAYDEN-SMITH SANITARIUM, with a year, 1817, inscribed below.

"Mommy, what's a sanitarium?"

"It's a place where …" Pause. "People get help. Yes, that's it. People are helped here."

The car, usually smooth, was oddly jarring on this shabby road.

"Mommy, where's Elsa?"

"Hmm?"

The building came into view. The exclusive word that fit such a place was … old. The walls had slowly eroded away, until the orange paint was a mere shade of copper and rust. The windows were dark, and many of them curtained, so that only darkness inhabited within. The trees were gnarred and twisted, and swayed with the breeze to dancing shadows.

"Agnar, are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yes, of course. I am very certain."

"Mommy?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I can't find Elsa."

The car glided awkwardly into a decaying parking lot, and stopped. Suddenly, it was too quiet.

"Elsa couldn't come, dear. She is busy."

"I don't want to come either," she muttered.

But not quietly enough. "Nonsense. Let's go inside."

The pavement at the entrance was, if that was possible, even worse than the little road that led to here, nor were the steps that rose to the door any better.

The door creaked loudly when Father pushed through it.

The inside, the lobby, looked considerably more modern. The unpolished marble floor gave shine to the dusty chandeliers. The receptions desk, made of fine, weathered wood, was tucked away into a corner, allowing the center of the space to be occupied by a quadruple of archaic couches of an unpalatable olive. A decrepit coat rack stood distinctively by one of the couches, providing an easy and lousy place to hang coats for any antique-lovers.

A receptionist, a young woman dressed in a snappy suit, looked up with piercing green eyes as they entered. Through a pair of smart glasses her gaze was nearly unsettling. "How may I help you?"

Father cleared his throat. "We are looking to see a doctor. About hallucinations."

The receptionist glanced at Anna, who shrunk back a step, fearfully shying away from the disquieting eyes.

"All residents must be at least eighteen years of age," stated the woman flatly, looking back to her dad.

"Oh no, of course we are not committing her, ma'am, of course not. We are simply looking for a doctor. Someone who can help her, eh …"

"Become normal?" suggested the receptionist.

"Why, yes! Yes. Become normal."

Anna stifled a yawn; it was impolite to yawn in front of strangers, least of all this lady.

The receptionist, without a single hint of emotion, took out a clipboard and a pen, and began scratching out a sound of a distasteful dissonance. Anna clung tightly to Mother.

"Name?"

"Snow. Agnar Snow."

"Name of patient?"

"Anna Snow."

"Excellent."

With a few more strokes, the woman handed the clipboard to Father, who took it with a "thank you."

"Second room in the right hall. Dr. Hutcheson."

Father nodded, and said "thank you" again, leading the family away. The receptionist was quickly back to a silent watch over the empty lobby.

The second room in the right hall was numbered 156, with "Dr. Hutcheson" on a plate below. They knocked once, waited a moment, then entered.

Dr. Hutcheson was an elderly man with a severe balding problem, but a round and boyish face that made him appear delightfully mischievous. His doctor's uniform was clean and sharp, even against his round belly. There was a hint of weariness around his eyes, the dark circles that marked his fatigue for countless nights.

He stood up with a tired smile. "I presume you are the ones Ms. Mercer informed me about? A, uh, Mr. Snow?"

"I am. Agnar Snow. Pleased to meet you." They shook hands. "This is Iguna, my wife," she waved, "and Anna, my daughter." She did not wave, keeping her eyes open with slight difficulty.

"Mrs. Snow," the doctor tipped his head. "And now, what brings you lot out here?"

Her parents shared a look.

"It's our daughter. She has been seeing things," explained her mother.

"I see." Nauseating scratching on the clipboard. "What sort of things."

"A friend. A girl," offer her father. And after a moment "No one we have ever known."

Scratching. "Interesting." More scratching. "What is her name?" This question was directed at Anna.

"Elsa," she whispered shyly. This did not seem an appropriate place to talk about Elsa.

"And this Elsa, how long have you been friends?"

"I don't know." Mumbling did not make it feel better.

He stopped for a long while, maybe an entire minute, only tapping his pen rhythmically, deep in thought. "Why don't you tell me about Elsa," he said finally.

Anna shifted. "Elsa … is my friend."

"Go on."

She shifted again. "She is– She lives with me. She is my friend and– We play together, and– She doesn't talk a lot. She's very quiet."

The doctor leaned forward. "What does she look like?"

Why was there not enough room? By Lord she was tired. "She has, um, white hair, like, um, ice. She is also very pretty." All of this scratched away. "And she has blue eyes." She didn't know why she added the last part, but felt it important enough to acknowledge.

There was a moment of silence in the room. Anna took the lull to stare at the window. The trees proved too dense for the sun to shine, forming tall shadows that danced softly to the wind. Behind the trees she could make out more buildings, hidden away.

The talking began some other time, when she was still distant.

"This hallucination seems to be severe, seeing how she remembers even the color of the eyes."

"What can we do about it?"

"To make it go away? I have a particular medicine that deals with cases very much like this. I'll let– Wait, no, here, I'll write it down for you. Ah, yes, just give that to Ms. Mercer. It is enough for two months, but I can tell you the drug works very effectively. You should see results within three days."

"Oh, thank you so very much, doctor–"

"Not at all, Mrs. Snow. Now, about the medicine…"

The trees. The trees. What was it about the trees? There were trees near her house. That must be it. The trees near her house. Sometimes, at night, she would sneak out of the house to look at the stars, and the trees would be there. They were tall, and dark, but they were soothing, and they had comforting presence.

"… Considering her young age, I recommend half of the daily dosage. And after two weeks' time, we can all come back here, and see if Elsa is gone, alright?"

"Yes, that would be great."

But the trees were not the same. The trees at home had something else. What was it…? She couldn't remember. Why couldn't she remember?

"Anna?"

Remember?

"Anna?!"

She jumped, and the hand that touched her shoulder flinched back. But it was only Mother, and she was worried.

"Sorry," she offered weakly, "I'm tired."

"Ah!," proclaimed the doctor suddenly, "Now would be the time to take the medicine. A time before a relaxing nap. Yes. Hurry now. It wouldn't do for her fall asleep without taking it."

"No. Of course not. Come on, Anna. And thank you once again, doctor."

"My pleasure. Just remember, if the situation changes, you have my telephone and cell phone."

Then they were at the lobby again. Those old couches looked very comfortable…

"Number nine-seven-seven, is it? Here you go, Mr. Snow. And an extra, just for now, so you won't have to open the package until you return home."

"Appreciated."

They walked out of the door. The front steps were very much corroded.

"Anna, I need you to take this, ok?"

Mother was holding something red. It was an odd-looking pill. Anna took it, not sure why. It tasted like nothingness in her mouth.

"And some water."

She took the water too, and drank it. The pill disappeared.

They were already in the car, and heading away. She was so, so tired. Unbuckling herself, she laid down across the back seat. Darkness surrounded her.

.

.

.

Daddy had told her not to go outside at night, but she did so anyways. It was cold, but the stars were beautiful, and she enjoyed watching them twinkle.

* * *

The next morning her parents showed her the mystery upstairs. It was a new bike.

"It's what you've always wanted, remember?"

She was very happy. But at the same time … if only there was someone who she could play with.

.

.

.

And the house was quiet, and quiet, and quiet.

* * *

 **A/N**

Okay guys. For all of you who read the preview, thank you for your support. This is the entire prologue, at 2700 words, and set exactly 12 years before the first chapter.

But before we go into the good stuff, which should start right when we begin the story, I REALLY need a beta-reader. The reason is that I am really upping the mood and language in the more intense parts of the story, and it is nearly impossible for me to know what makes sense or not for someone outside of my head. Currently I have requested five, and not one has replied. So I'm waiting a bit then sending out another message, and hopefully the next person will actually get back to me. In the mean time, I'll be continuing to write, so that I can have a good amount done before a beta comes in.

As always, reviews are awesome.

From **Veoviing** \- Real Elsa?

Well, it is rated T for violence. Possibly for gore too. (Don't worry - nobody dies.)

 **Hatesolstice** \- Too short

Yeah, sorry about that. That before was only a preview of the Prologue, because I needed to get myself a beta-reader before I can fully start with this. My apologies.

 **Shawn Raven** \- How horrifying is Horror?

I am not very, very good at writing horror, and that is because I haven't tried yet (so you can call me a rookie). But after this trend of 2015 horror games/movies, I just can't help myself. So yeah, basically, I'll try, but I can't promise you'll be scared.

And thank you to **momokol** and all the anonymous readers.


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